


After the Storm

by morganoconner



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Foursome, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-03
Updated: 2010-11-03
Packaged: 2017-10-18 06:22:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganoconner/pseuds/morganoconner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Afterwards, Gabriel is pretty sure he’s too broken to be fixed. Team Free Will is going to give it their best shot anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> My fic for the Secret Lovers exchange at [](http://team-free-love.livejournal.com/profile)[**team_free_love**](http://team-free-love.livejournal.com/). Written for [](http://viridian-magpie.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://viridian-magpie.livejournal.com/)**viridian_magpie**.

_A new light is warm, shining down on you after the storm  
Don't mourn what is gone, greet the dawn_

_And I will be standing by your side  
Together we'll face the turning tide_

_-Poets of the Fall, “Dawn”_

*

There’s no physical pain as the blade is shoved through his vessel’s heart, or maybe he’s just far too broken by this final betrayal to feel it if there is. For a single moment that seems to last an eternity, all he can see is the startling blue of his brother’s eyes, the way Lucifer’s features twist with something like regret, and then everything explodes into white-hot radiance and he’s screaming…screaming…

…and by the time the screams die away, by the time brilliance fades to darkness, he’s already gone.

***

There _is_ pain when he’s brought back. It cuts into him like ice, presses through him and leaves him so cold he thinks he might be frozen solid, but he’s shivering, his teeth chattering when he blinks his eyes open and stares into the dark shadows that surround the oldest horseman.

 _Death_ , he tries to say, to acknowledge, and the _why_ is dancing on the tip of his tongue as well, but Death has already turned away and vanished, and he’s left with nothing to see but the wall of flames that surround him on all sides.

***

He measures the days by his brother’s visits. There isn’t a single day that passes that Lucifer doesn’t come, and though neither of them ever says a word, there’s something like comfort in these moments. He’s weakened, shattered, his grace battered and bruised and curled in on itself, and even if not for the holy fire, he isn’t sure he’d have enough juice left to escape this place. Even if he hates his brother for doing this to him, he still loves him as well, can’t stop loving him, because Lucifer is still family. And Lucifer, at least, hasn’t left him alone, with nothing but the knowledge of his failure to keep him company and nothing at all to measure the passage of time.

It’s twisted, and it’s wrong, and he’s clinging to this diseased bond of brotherhood like it’s something that can actually be salvaged, even if he knows differently. But at least he’s not alone.

It would be so much worse if he were alone.

***

Except that one day, Lucifer doesn’t come.

There is true anguish in the sobs that claw their way out of Gabriel’s throat when he realizes Lucifer is never coming again.

~*~*~

The first year Sam is out of Hell passes slowly, and most of it is spent in a haze of numbness. He can’t think straight, can’t remember things he knows he should remember, can’t process things the way he knows he should be able to. He can’t _feel_ , and it should scare him, should _terrify_ him, but all there is is a blank sort of disconnectedness instead.

He wakes up screaming most nights, but he never remembers what he was screaming about afterwards. He knows Hell, can conjure images of it when he tries…but he can’t outright recall any specifics except in his subconscious.

That’s how he spends the first year.

Dean and Castiel find him the second year. More accurately, they stumble upon him purely by chance, during a routine ghost hunt, and if he were more with it, he knows he’d wonder why Dean is hunting at _all_ , let alone with a restored angel by his side. But at the time, he doesn’t think to question, doesn’t think to ask.

And then, Dean is by his side again, exactly where he should have been all along, and slowly, so slowly, Sam starts to feel like _Sam_ again.

It’s not until the third year that he starts to really remember things. The things Lucifer left behind, the things Sam saw and heard and _did_. And eventually, he remembers the one thing Lucifer asked him – _begged_ him – to do.

In Sam’s final moments in Hell, just as the light ( _God?_ he still wonders…) descended and started _burning_ Lucifer from his body, he remembers Lucifer’s craving for forgiveness. Remembers the devil ordering, then asking, then _pleading_ with Sam to carry the message back. Back to a brother…a brother Lucifer both loved and betrayed.

He remembers that Gabriel is _alive_.

***

They find him at dawn, curled in a fetal position inside a ring of fire that never burns out on its own, three years to the day since Lucifer plunged back into Hell.

Gabriel’s eyes are closed, and he’s whimpering, mumbling to himself as he trembles on the ground.

Sam watches Castiel kneel beside the archangel, watches the way Gabriel’s eyes fly wide, watches the scream building in his throat. He watches the way Castiel gently swipes two fingers over Gabriel’s forehead, and he watches the way Gabriel slumps in Castiel’s arms, unconscious.

He knows it’s not his fault, not really, but he finds a way to blame himself anyway.

~*~*~

Consciousness slams into Gabriel like a freight train, and he bolts upright, panicked and panting, his throat closed too tightly to scream. It takes a long time to register the differences he feels, the wings at his back no longer bound, the sunlight bright on his face, the cool sheets pooled in his lap. Gone is the hard, unforgiving concrete floor, gone are the too-hot flames stinging his eyes and nose. Gone is the wall that kept him from reaching out, that kept him so horribly _alone_ for so long.

The archangel shudders, and once he starts, he can’t seem to stop, trembling violently until a warm hand lands on his back, and a low voice speaks in his ear. “Brother. Brother, you’re safe, now.”

Castiel. It’s Castiel sitting beside him, Castiel comforting him, and Gabriel knows he doesn’t deserve it, knows Castiel should hate him, but it doesn’t stop him from burying himself in the angel’s arms as he starts to sob.

***

He ends up traveling with them on a permanent basis because, honestly, he has nowhere else to go. Whenever he’s alone, the darkness feels like it’s closing in on him, and he loses all ability to draw on his grace, and in his mind’s eye he sees flames rushing toward him, and he _can’t take it_. He sleeps, now, an escape from the pain of just making it through the day, pretending that everything is still normal. His mind isn’t broken, but it’s fractured, and knowing that doesn’t make it any easier to bear.

So he stays with them, with the Winchesters and Castiel, and he tries not to wonder why they allow it or why they don’t ask him the hard questions or why, when he wakes up sometimes with screams trapped in his throat, one of them is beside him, soothing him, holding him, _helping_ him.

He’s afraid that if he asks, if he even dares to breathe the question, it’ll stop, _they’ll_ stop, and then he’ll have nothing.

But silence like that can’t last forever, and eventually, the question breaks free anyway.

***

“ _Why?_ ” Gabriel whispers, and it’s almost quiet enough that for a second, he’s sure Sam doesn’t hear him, except that when Sam’s here, it always seems like his every sense is attuned to Gabriel, and he doesn’t miss much.

“What do you mean?” he asks, a clear attempt to dodge the question. Gabriel’s been with them for six months now, the hunter had to know a question like this was coming.

“Why do you… Why are you always _doing this?_ ” Gabriel asks, waving a hand, feeling miserable. “You should… I never gave you a reason to…” He trails off, at a loss.

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Standing up to your brother for the sake of humanity wasn’t a good reason?”

“Not for this.” Gabriel looks down, his fists clenching on the rumpled blanket in his lap. “This is personal. This is…” _caring_ , he doesn’t say, but it’s what it feels like. It feels like these people, who he’s hurt over and over again, care about him. And it doesn’t make sense.

“We do care, Gabriel.”

It’s not Sam who says it, and Gabriel startles at the sight of his brother appearing suddenly on his other side. When Castiel reaches a hand out and his fingers stroke down along Gabriel’s cheek, the archangel closes his eyes and shudders out a breath, feeling raw and exposed and hating it. “ _Why?_ ” he asks again, desperately.

“’Cause we’ve all been there.” Dean, now, taking a seat cross-legged at the end of the bed, gazing at Gabriel with eyes that don’t waver and see far too much. “You think you’re the only one with issues post-apocalypse? You think you’re the only one who’s ever fucked up? Or the only one who feels like you don’t deserve forgiveness, no matter how much you want it?” Dean snorts, shaking his head. “You got a lot to learn, pal.”

Gabriel…realizes that he wants that. Wants to learn whatever it is these three want to teach him. Because for some unfathomable reason, they seem to truly care about him. And, against every intention he’s ever had from the moment he fled from Heaven…he finds that he cares about them, too.

~*~*~

Castiel doesn’t know when they each started to fall. He doesn’t know which one was first, or how it happened, or what it means. He doesn’t know what will happen tonight, or tomorrow, or next week, or years from now.

He does know that he loves his brother, knows that beyond the shadow of a doubt. Knows that he would do anything for him, as he would for Dean, or for Sam.

He knows that all of them, all four of them, have been broken and battered in ways that have left more than scars. He also knows that what healing has been granted, has been granted through friendship, through trust, through _love_. Through the faith they’ve helped build in each other.

He knows that this, here, now, is nothing more or less than the final piece of a puzzle that’s been waiting for completion for a long time.

He doesn’t know if any of them are ready for this.

But he knows that all of them want to be, and that’s enough.

It’s enough.

~*~*~

It’s Sam who starts it. Sam, who Gabriel knows has never seen himself as worthy of _anything_. Sam, who’s almost as fractured and beaten down as Gabriel is these days. Sam, who’s refused to take anything for himself in a long, long time.

It’s _Sam_ who starts it.

He leans down, turns Gabriel’s face toward him, cups it in one giant hand, watches Gabriel through hooded eyes as the archangel struggles to breathe normally, to stay calm. And then he kisses him.

Gabriel gasps, though part of him knew it was coming from the moment Sam looked into his eyes. The hunter smiles a little against his mouth and licks his way inside.

It’s only a kiss, but Gabriel’s already lost in a wave of sensation. Of warm hands and a gentle touch, of the slow glide of Sam’s tongue and the smooth feel of his lips, of a desperate flare of _need_ and the heady rush of _want_.

Sam’s hands are grasping his hips, turning Gabriel’s body more fully toward him, and then he’s tilting his head for a better angle, and suddenly _new_ hands are on his back, caressing his spine, and Gabriel moans. Sam swallows the sound as Castiel pulls Gabriel’s shirt off, and then those hands are on his shoulders, stroking down to his _wings_ , hidden as they may be, and at the same time there’s a tug, a _shift_ , a pressing of grace against grace, and it’s too much, _too much_ …

Dean’s hand on his stomach steadies him, grounds him, and he pulls away from Sam for a moment to look at the older of the Winchester brothers. There must be something desperate in his eyes, because Dean crawls forward more and presses a kiss to Gabriel’s forehead, to his nose, to his lips, soothing him as the archangel slowly adjusts to the feel of his brother’s grace and the warmth of the people surrounding him.

He tries then, tries to give back, tries to wrap his grace around Castiel’s, tries to reach for Dean or Sam or _anyone_ , and he is pushed back, held down.

“This isn’t about us,” Sam whispers, coming onto the bed beside him, breath ghosting across Gabriel’s ear and making him shiver. “This is about you.”

“But I…” No, that doesn’t make sense…he can’t…it isn’t…

“This is for you,” Castiel echoes behind him, voice firm. “Later, there will be time for all of us.”

“Let yourself go for a while,” Dean suggests with bright eyes and a quirked smile. “Just close your eyes and enjoy the ride.”

“You’re not alone anymore, and it’s time you understood that.” Had Sam somehow moved closer? His teeth graze Gabriel’s neck, and the archangel tilts his head to give the hunter better access, a moan caught in his throat.

His eyes close.

Everything from that moment is a blur, bright sensation and liquid ecstasy and unsteady heartbeats and _want, please, God_ …

Blasphemy spills from his lips in trickles and then in torrents.

Hands, and mouths, and grace-light and soul-music, and he falls, hard and fast, aching and frantic and desperate, always desperate…

And they, the three of them, are waiting to catch him.

***

When he wakes, he’s curled around Sam, his head pillowed on the hunter’s chest, right over his tattoo. Dean is pressed against Gabriel’s back, one hand possessively on the archangel’s waist as he breathes deeply and evenly, obviously still asleep. On Sam’s other side, Castiel is resting, his eyes closed as his thumb idly strokes along Gabriel’s hand, which is thrown over Sam and tangled with his brother’s.

Gabriel realizes, in that instant, that in countless millennia of existence, he has never been happier, nor felt more alive, than he does right now.

~*~*~

Dean watches him constantly, maybe because he understands Gabriel’s defenses better than most. He watches to make sure that the archangel doesn’t slip back into the darkness that gripped him for so long, and he watches because everything about Gabriel has always drawn his eye.

He watches often enough that he’s the first to really see it when Gabriel’s smiles become more genuine, when his laughter becomes more real. He’s the first one to catch Gabriel eating a candy bar, something he hasn’t done in all the months since they found him. He’s even the first to witness that first snap of fingers that they’ve all secretly missed.

He’s the first to see the moment when Gabriel finally understands that they’re not going anywhere, that he gets to have this, that he gets to _keep_ them.

When that moment comes, they’re in the Impala, and Sam and Dean are loudly…and badly…singing along with Def Leppard, and it’s when Dean is wailing about pouring some sugar on him that he smirks, catches Gabriel’s eye in the rearview mirror, and gets to witness the revelation happen.

Forever afterward, that will be _their_ song, and Dean wouldn’t have it any other way.

Who needs that godawful romantic crap anyway?

~*~*~

It’s never perfect, but Gabriel thinks he would be bored if it were. It’s not perfect, but it’s _them_ , and for the first time in a long time, he feels like he has a family again. Even when things are bad, when the flames and the darkness and the aching, desperate loneliness come rushing back and he can’t stop it, they’re by his side. Those times are getting rarer and rarer now, but sometimes they creep up on him when he’s not expecting it, leaving him breathless and sobbing. Still, he wouldn’t trade it, wouldn’t trade any of what he has right now, not for anything.

Castiel is making noises about a real bond, lately, about claiming the Winchesters officially, in a way that even Heaven can’t argue with, in a way that’s _forever_ , and Gabriel thinks he’s going to say yes. He doesn’t want to subject them to the shadows that still creep around him, but then, they’ll be there anyway, all three of them, and this way, maybe they can help him fend the darkness off faster.

He doesn’t know what will come next, but he knows who he’ll be with when it does.

He turns away from the large bay window of this place they’ve come to, this place they’ve decided to call _theirs_. He turns from the window, turns from his silent contemplations, and grins when he finds Sam watching him as Dean and Castiel bicker across the living room.

He decides, cheerfully, that there will be far less bickering if there’s nakedness, and they have a whole bedroom they’ve yet to explore upstairs.

He lifts a hand, and he snaps.

-  



End file.
